One of my very good friends from college is expecting a baby boy just a mere 5 weeks before our baby is expected. After a tragic miscarriage last year, I’m absolutely elated for her and her husband that their dream to start a family is finally coming true.

Her baby shower is tomorrow and, as excited as I am, I’m dreading it. There’s so much to plan from my end just to get there. Mike’s working all weekend (Sunday included) out-of-town, Carter’s home sick from daycare today, he’s going to my parents house for Saturday night, so I have to pack everything, and I have to drive an hour and a half together there. Oh, and I’m pregnant and can’t stand up anymore after touring the malls for about 3 hours shopping for her gift today (Yes, I dragged my sick child out to the mall today.)

I am awesome.

Oh, and I’m supposed to cook my favourite dish and bring it with me.

I say fuck that. Sorry friend, but I’m putting my foot down. Anyone has a problem with a veggie tray from the grocery store tell them to come talk to me after they work full time, care for a sick toddler and are nearly 7 months pregnant. If they approach me without first completing the above, I am allowed to full on bitch slap them.

You’ve been warned ladies.

Oh, and shopping today? Is there a holiday approaching that I’m unaware of? I couldn’t believe how packed the stores where at 11am. Every teenager - presumably on lunch break - and every stay-at-home-mom in the area were in the malls: with their elderly parents. Fuckin’ zoo. I can’t tolerate crowds even on a good day so I was in a less then stellar mood when we finally got the hell out of there.

I’ve always been taught - respect my elders, I know it can’t be hard to be walking around with a cane, all decrepit and miserable. But what about an obviously pregnant woman with a child in a stroller and about half the house packed underneath? Don’t they deserve some help and courtesy too? But no, all those damn old people and stupid teenagers look right through me and continue on cutting me off nearly causing me to ram my stroller up their asses: which I was more then tempted to do a number of times.

People just have no sense of decency anymore. Everyone is out for themselves and fuck everyone else. It’s so disappointing to see how many people don’t hold doors for each other anymore, don’t stop to allow pedestrians to cross the road and don’t help people who have dropped something. Saying “thank-you”? Thing of the past.

The more I think about how rude I am people are it gets more and more depressing.

Not to mention this fuckin’ heartburn. I think I’m about to breathe fire.

Oh, and because I don’t have enough to complain about:

I figured what the hell, if anything it will give me some good fodder.

What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.

We’ve been working on getting Carter to understand the big changes that are less than 3 months away. HOLY FUCK THREE MONTHS UNTIL I HAVE A NEWBORN AGAIN.

*deep breath*

I’ll be fine.

So, yeah. Carter. Around Christmas time we began telling him there was a baby in mommy’s belly and that he was going to be a Big Brother. As expected, he’s been very nonchalant about the whole thing and rather accepting because he doesn’t realize - Sweet Mary and Jesus I Have to SHARE My Toys!

Now that I’ve been showing a bit LOT more we’ve been talking to him about the baby on a regular basis. Asking where the baby is and what the baby’s doing, stuff like that. His answers are very consistent that baby is in his belly at which point he prods at his belly button and insists that “Baby Seeping”

(The visual of a baby seeping through his belly button creeps me out every time.)

Most kids his age that are expecting a sibling, I’ve seen them kiss mommy’s belly and give the baby a hug. This one? I ask him if he wants to kiss baby goodnight and he heaves up his shirt while trying to contort himself into a pretzel-like-shape to get to his belly button.

I’ve been having moments of regret for getting pregnant again. I think it’s too soon, I don’t know if I’m ready for night feedings and sleepless nights days forever. Worry that I’ve forgotten everything about newborns; I don’t know if I’m ready to accept that Carter is no longer The Baby. He’s now going to be the Big Brother.

(Is it weird that every time I write the words Big Brother I think of the TV show?)

Yet, at the same time I long to hold a newborn baby and to have that baby smell and cooing in the house again.

The screams and whines of a toddler just aren’t the same.

The screams that will reach their highest magnitude when Oh My God That Baby Is Touching My Stuff!

Good Times.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to have another child. I delayed getting pregnant the second time for work reasons (my choice, not theirs) and now I’m more then ready to extend our family, but these NORMAL feelings just keep creeping up and grabbing hold to my consciousness, along with the fact that this pregnancy has been entirely different then it was with Carter, it can’t stop me from thinking those thoughts: Why did we do this again? Can we really afford another child? What if they hate each other? OMG, daycare fees for TWO children!? When. the. hell. am. I. going. to. sleep. again?! What if this child is the polar opposite of Carter and never sleeps, has colic and is the Spawn of Satan?

I know that it’s not really the Spawn of Satan. Mike is a Christmas Baby.

If anything it’s more like Jesus - be it boy or girl, of course.

And I’m the Virgin Mary *cough, cough*

I’m delaying the sequel to Birthing a Watermelon story to vent about Toddlers in transition to Jr. Pre-Schoolers. If I don’t share this now, I may just burst with frustration and develop a rash. I may even sell my child to the next group of gypsies who wander through the city.

I’ve been trying very hard to instill some independence in Carter. He plays well alone without coaxing, reads and can entertain himself with just about anything. I’ve prided myself on giving him options and letting him make a decision without making them too complex - like which hat he’d prefer to wear to school today.

I’ve created a monster.

A living fire breathing heathen attempting to suck my very soul from my still warm body.

Everything was going fine. We were doing great. Small decisions make him feel a little bit in control what the fuck do I know, hoenstly? and I don’t have to force everything upon him. Right?

Wrong.

At two this may have worked.

At two and a half?

Fucking.

Nightmare.

He refuses to choose, he wants everything - Right Now. ALL the trains have to go to school with him. ALL the stuffed animals MUST be in his bed; and ALL the hats have to come to daycare because Oh. My. God. The World Will END Without My Blue Hat And My Grey Hat.

A fuckin’ monster I’ve created people.

I’m wore out and dragging ass just about everyday. I am in bed by 9pm and sleep in late every morning THEN fight the Devil Child because Jay-seus Woman, I Want My Diego Sheets!

And For The Love Of God I Must Wear The White Socks With Blue On Them, NOT Red.

Work is my sanctuary at the moment.

Yes, yes, discipline the child and stop giving in to his every demand.

I don’t give in - all the time. I have learned to pick and choose where I want to stand my ground, but some days, I just have to concede because not every battle is worth it.

My day will go on without fighting over the damn red socks vs. the blue socks.

But am I then teaching him that his bitching and whining insisting on wearing the White Socks with Blue over the the White Socks with Red will wear mommy down and he will get what he wants if he throws a big enough tantrum?

I just keep reminding him that he’s lucky to be so cute because I would probably Fed-Ex him to the other side of the world otherwise.

And conveniently forget a return address.

Fuck this. This parenting gig is for the birds.

Just tell me I’m not alone. Tell me that your child has gone through this phase (and you both survived at the other end)?

What have you done to curb the craziness? How have you managed to get through without selling or shipping your child to a foreign country?

Soother, binky, dummy, doh-doh, pacifier, or sooie (sue - e) as we call it.Either way, they are no longer used in The House of Me. Carter has been nearly two weeks Sooie free in preparation for his move up to the Jr. Pre-school class at daycare. Surprisingly, it was not as difficult to get him over it as we had initially thought it would be.

Nights where he would NOT sleep without Sooie. Nights of screaming and crying and carrying on while we withheld the wondrous sucking apparatus. That’s what I envisioned. I was terrified to try and start the extraction process, but it seems that we’ve let it run it’s course and he no longer asks for it. Simple as that.

As you scoff at me and the simplicity of the situation, I’ll let you in on what we did - completely un-choreographed.

One day I put him down for nap sans Sooie. He kept insisting for it, not wailing and carrying on as I suspected he might, but insisting nonetheless. I had no idea where a single Sooie was and just didn’t want to look for one because I’m so damn lazy. I told him that I would look for one and be right back.

I lied.

I just left and didn’t return.

He fell asleep.

Following Christmas holidays, when Carter returned to daycare, they didn’t have one there for him. At nap time they simple told him; “Mommy forgot to send one today.” and so he put his little head down and slept.

No qualms.

There has been no request since.

Don’t hate me just yet, it’s just luck I think. The next kid will be a complete nightmare.

For those that don’t do the transition as well as Carter has (so far) there are other rituals that parents may follow to empower their children to feel as though they are the ones making the decision to forego the soother.

One thing that I learned about, which I thought was totally fun! and awesome! was the Pacifier Tree in Denmark.

The Pacifier Tree, originally uploaded to Flickr by peff.

There is a tree where children come with their parents to give their Sooies to the Pacifier Fairy - a kind of closure for the children I suppose.

What have you done to get your little one to give up the pacifier?

Look for the follow up in a couple days where I’ll tell you about MY transition from thumb sucking.

I still remember it well, since it wasn’t that long ago.